


Summer Heat

by alivingsaint



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Food Fellatio, Gob being Gob, M/M, Strong Innuendo, Teen Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alivingsaint/pseuds/alivingsaint
Summary: Gob loves messing with his brother during summer.
Relationships: George Oscar "Gob" Bluth/Michael Bluth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Summer Heat

**Author's Note:**

> This is an experimental ficlet that I originally posted on tumblr. It started off as a "favorites" list and quickly evolved into an excuse to play around with telling a loose boyfights narrative in Gob's voice (and through his POV). It managed to make me smile when I reread it the other day, so I polished the rougher edges in order to house it in the archives. 
> 
> Much love to [andithil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andithil) for the final pass!

Gob loved chasing tail at the beach during summer. The babes were hot, the sun was hotter. But by far his favorite part was when he’d stroll up to the banana stand to annoy the ever-loving shit out of Michael. Because what a little loser, right? Locking himself away in a phallic-shaped fruit box all summer, like that didn’t say anything about the guy. Come  _ on. _

Gob’s second favorite part of summer was coming up with all the new and exciting ways to mess with him. A couple of the classics were, in his humble opinion:

\- The Banana Grab, or the five finger family discount. Sure, sometimes he’d do it in front of Michael just to watch him pull his patented bitchface, but the real fun was in creating distractions to see how many bananas he could snatch from right under his brother’s stupid nose. Dipping his fingers in the chocolate usually scored him at least one. It was all he ever needed for:

\- The BBJ. One “B” for the banana, the “BJ” for, you know— freaking duh. Not that Gob was batting for the gays. Whenever he slid that piece of fruit into his mouth, it was 100% for his fruit of a brother’s benefit. Michael would blush so red as Gob took it down to the peel.  _ Hilarious  _ how he tried playing it off as anger.

God, and when Gob would suck the chocolate sauce off his fingers real slow? The guy never failed to deliver a good chuckle. Always sputtering, always fidgeting behind the counter. Sometimes he’d slap Gob’s hand away from his mouth while hissing, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Please. As if Michael didn’t know. One time he spilled some chocolate on his apron because he couldn’t even take his eyes off him. It was a big ol’ splotch and apparently all Gob’s fault for being such an “immature asshole”.

Look, whatever. Gob tried cleaning the guy off, but far be it for Michael to play it cool. He’d shoved Gob backwards; shot his hands straight out and  _ pushed.  _ There’d been a nasty bite to his tone when he told Gob that he’d helped quite enough for one day. For the rest of the summer, actually.

Bitch.

Like, really? He stopped talking to Gob for weeks.

So if Gob had gotten angry—you know, a bit PO’ed about Michael’s attitude problem? Who could blame him for taking a sledgehammer to the banana stand in the middle of the night? Michael’s face the next morning was  _ priceless.  _ Just picture it: totally slack-jawed and paler than a pair of tits in winter.

So sad, so tragic. At least in that pathetic way where taking pity on him seemed natural.

With a sympathetic sigh, Gob had slung an arm over Michael’s shoulder and blamed the banana stand on the homeless. Then he offered the poor bastard one of the two popsicles he’d purchased from their competitor around the corner. He was Michael’s big brother after all. Giving him a popsicle was the least he could do during his time of need. 

Surprise, surprise when Michael had just glared at him instead of taking the damn thing. 

On the one hand, more for Gob. Plus he totally caught Michael staring when he started double-fisting them in the heat. The guy was basically hypnotized by the way Gob kept laving over his sticky fingers. His eyes got super wide, which—

Seriously, freaking homo much?

Gob would’ve been a real jerk if he hadn’t offered him another popsicle in understanding. 

Of course Michael seemed to take it the wrong way. He’d been all, “No, Gob! Jesus! Why do you always—”

Yada yada. His face had reddened to that schoolgirl blush of his, and then Michael full on shuddered as Gob tongued the popsicle to the stick.

It must’ve stirred something in Michael’s panties because he had to excuse himself after that. To go home, “away from you, Gob.” 

God, okay. Just stellar.

Gob had stewed for all of two seconds before calling after him. 

_ Don’t beat yourself too hard, Michael.  _

Or up, is what he’d meant.

Michael had raised his middle finger in response, giving Gob a nice, solid signal for shoving it up his asshole. 

Maybe in the guy’s dreams. 

Gob smirked, licking the last trail of melted sugar off his fingers.


End file.
